


Na Zdorovie

by ArdenInTheGarden



Category: Smile For Me (Video Game)
Genre: Birthday Party, Celebrations, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forgiveness, Male-Female Friendship, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 10:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdenInTheGarden/pseuds/ArdenInTheGarden
Summary: Months after the Habitat closed its doors, Tiff Webber decides to go talk to Dr. Habit again, one-on-one.





	Na Zdorovie

Tiff had been receiving emails for weeks, all advertising an open position as a singer in a new retreat opening on the edge of town. They had started getting more specific in their wording, until she was  _ certain _ they were asking directly for her, just without a name.

“NOW HIRING! LOUNGE SINGER, PAID POSITION, PERFORMANCES 5 NIGHTS A WEEK.”

“NOW HIRING! FEMALE LOUNGE SINGER, PAID POSITION, PERFORMANCES 5 NIGHTS A WEEK, LODGINGS PROVIDED.”

“NOW HIRING BESPECTACLED FEMALE LOUNGE SINGER--ROSE TINTED PREFERRED. PAID POSITION, PERFORMANCES 5 NIGHTS A WEEK, LODGINGS AND AUDIENCE PROVIDED.”

“NOW HIRING FOR LOUNGE SINGER POSITION! IDEAL APPLICANT: RED GLASSES, POOFY HAIR, EXPERIENCE WITH PERFORMING AT BIRTHDAY PARTIES. PERFORMANCES ARE 5 NIGHTS A WEEK, WITH GUARANTEED LODGINGS, AUDIENCE, COMPETITIVE PAY PROVIDED.”

There was no doubt that the “Dr. Habit” sending all these job listings was looking for her. Why didn’t he ask? She hadn’t the faintest idea. As shady as it may have seemed, she was looking for a more reliable job. The occasional local gig and birthday party wasn’t enough to help her advance her career, and steady pay and a consistent audience might be the kick start she needed.

And besides, if she could help people with her voice that’d be just fine in her book. Admittedly, she could use a hand herself. Since her break up with Ron it had been a bit deep and dark in her mind. He spent more time as Ronbo the Clown than as her boyfriend, and it had worn her down to not have any support. They had just grown apart. That was part of being an adult, sad as it was. Sometimes you wake up one morning and see that the person laying next to you is no longer the person you were so in love with at one time.

So she accepted the position.

It should have been a red flag the instant he had her sign her contract. She had read it, she really had, but how closely? She was so excited to finally have this locked down her eyes danced over the paper and didn’t soak in many of the words.

And so...she found herself singing Row, Row, Row Your Throat for the seventh time this week. She didn’t know why she bothered sometimes. She was singing to a room that consisted of three people, one of them so drunk she could barely speak, and had a repertoire that included about a dozen simple songs the doctor had crafted for her.

The walls hummed beside her, and she gave them a gentle pat. At least Wallus was always there. It had initially spooked her to suddenly lose track of the janitor. He and Doc had made it a point to always attend every show, but there was something that had happened. She didn’t know the details, but from what Kamal had said they parted on pretty nasty terms. Both of them went into hiding--Wallus into the walls and Doc into his office.

She would have given anything to have things calm around here, even for a moment.

But all this had been months ago, hadn’t it?

The Habitat was closed, Kamal having woken everyone up in the night and rushed them out of the building. He had claimed a fire at the time, and later confessed that he “had a bad feeling”. He had been right, of course, and they’d all been awarded a bit of money for their trouble. Not that anyone wanted it, but they couldn’t well return it to him without making things even weirder than they already had to be.

She looked down at the paper in her hands, turning it over a few times as if she expected it to sprout a new message. They had all received letters from Doc, all apologies personalized to each of them. She had focused on one key detail on hers.

The address.

Tiff’s shoes skidded on the frosty steps as she climbed up them, tucking the letter back into her peacoat and adjusting her glasses. She shook off the anxiety that clung to her like a second skin, paying it no heed. She had something to do. It was something she had been thinking about for a while, and today was the day. The do or die moment, so to speak.

Tentatively, she knocked on the door. A quick, three-beat rapping.on the apartment door. Perhaps this made her the raven? Hopefully not, she hoped to bear a much brighter message than that old bird had.

The door opened a crack, just barely enough to be considered open. “Who is it?” Boris’s deep baritone warmed the air between them, and even in such a brief statement she could hear how sad, and  _ tired _ he was. He sounded like a man who had been beaten down into nothing and was still learning how to sort through the broken pieces.

“Hey, Doc.” Her voice was soft as she nudged the door open just enough to peek in. He wanted his privacy, and that was fine, but no one had heard from him in months and she was getting worried. Kamal had Wallus had assured her it wasn’t her job while they were all having drinks together, and that if he had wanted to talk to anyone he would have reached out and she was just putting herself into a position that wasn’t gonna benefit anyone. But she knew they were wrong. Reaching out was hard sometimes, and she wasn’t going to let him suffer alone.

_ “Tiffany?” _ The door opened just a bit wider, and one of Boris’s eyes was now visible. The concern and distress in them was evident, and he peered around a bit before gently taking her by the wrist and pulled her inside. He looked anxious, reaching up to his hair and running his fingers over the thick sections of the braid it had been tied into. “Are you alone?”

“I’m alone, Boris.” The word ‘doctor’ almost found its way out of her mouth, but she knew better than to call him that. He had had his dental license revoked, and now he was just Boris. And Just Boris didn’t seem like he was faring too well. “Sorry to drop in like this. Thought you might have been in the mood for a little company?”

“Ah...maybe. I don’t go out as often as I used to.” He looked around the room, suddenly ashamed of the state it was in. It had been days since he had left at all, and he hadn’t tidied anything up in much longer than that. The possessions, sparse as they were, were strewn about in a haphazard way, things looking as if they’d been abandoned in the middle of a half-hearted action. He hurriedly grabbed things up, clearing off space for his guest to sit so she wasn’t forced to just stand there and stare at him with a bag on the floor beside her.

He couldn’t stand the look in her eyes as she shed her coat with all the grace of a refined lady, tucking it over her arm until he practically ran over to take it from her arms and set it up onto the coat rack. She was too kind. Too concerned. He didn’t deserve her. She had a strong, kind, motherly aura about her that he felt both drawn to and afraid of.

“You don’t have to worry about that, sugar.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture, and his raised to meet hers. He held her hand between his for a long moment, long fingers enveloping her skin and warming her from the cold.

“It’s very cold outside.” He offered lamely, unable to think of anything else to say. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes as he held onto her, leaning slightly closer. “Tiff? Why...why did you come here?” He didn’t dare let go, his brow creased with concern. Guilt was gnawing at him from within, threatening to consume what little of a person was left and leave nothing but that happy shell. They had stripped him of his false smile, what did he have left for them to take away? The room felt oppressively close, threatening to choke him, to smother him, for the weight of the air to shatter him into a million pieces and--

“Boris, look at me. You’re having a panic attack. Can you understand what I’m saying? Can you try and breathe with me?” He nodded frantically, trying to pay attention to her directions. “We’ll take a breath in...and out...and in...and out...can you feel the floor under your feet? Do you feel my hand in yours? Focus on those, focus on the sound of my voice.”

Tiffany’s voice was like was smooth like silk, sweet like honey, and it washed over him in waves that shifted off the sediment from decades of abuse--both at the hands of others and at his own. He didn’t know how she did it! It was maddening to know that he took hours to wind himself down from mental struggles and here she was, having gotten him to a manageable level in a few minutes!

“Breathe for me. Just you breathe and go on and listen.” She licked her lips, disregarding the foul, sticky feel of her lipstick coating her tongue as she did so. For the first time in months, she was wrapped in a genuine embrace, and she held him back as tightly as she imagined would help him feel safe. “You’re doing great, Boris, you really are. I’m proud of you.”

Boris sobbed. There was nothing left of his masking smile to hold back the flood within him, and he sobbed. There was too much kindness in her touch, and he  _ sobbed. _ There was love in the world and it was being given to him, and he  _ SOBBED. _

“Tiffany I’m so sorry for what I’ve done! I didn’t mean to--” He fell quiet for a moment, taking a few shaky breaths before continuing more quietly. “I...I did mean to hurt people. And I did.” He had his chin on top of her head, holding her tucked up against himself like the matryoshka dolls of his youth.

“You’re getting better. You didn’t  _ want _ to want that, and you no longer do. You’re growing. You’re learning. And I don’t know how badly you’ve needed to hear this, Boris, but you’re also  _ forgiven _ and  _ loved. _ You don’t need to hurt yourself now that your penance is served.” Her hands made their way up onto one of his shoulders and the other into his hair, gently rubbing at whatever skin she made contact with.

He was warm to the touch--almost alarmingly so--and he melted beneath her ministrations with no resistance. It was difficult to fight back against the first kind touch he had received in...well...he didn’t know how long. That might be a problem. One of the things his therapist would suggest he write on his list of things he wanted to work on. Court-mandated therapy wasn’t as scary as it had seemed when he’d first been told about it. Surprisingly enough the herb man had argued against jail time, and this was the compromise. Therapy, community service, and a cash settlement to each victim.  _ Victim. _ He shuddered at the word and hiccuped.

“Thank you.” He spoke after what might have been an eternity. The silence in the room was almost too much to bear, but he was reluctant to release her. He always had been reluctant to release her, though. She was too much like the mother he had never had.Which wasn’t entirely truthful. The woman who had birthed him was in his life until he was eighteen and moved out, and then only through letters when she deigned it permissible to speak with him.

But this was different. She had always been warm, or at the very least still inviting at all times, and he had always broken down when she’d tried to break her contract. He was too scared to let go. With great reluctance, he did anyway. “My apologies.” A few other weak attempts at conversation were mumbled as he moved towards the small kitchen, motioning for Tiff to sit at the little table that sat nearby. “Won’t happen again. Are you...doing well?”

“I’m doing just fine. I could ask you the same thing, you know. I heard you’ve been getting help. Proud of you for that. Ronny and I could’ve used that, but ahh, he was too stubborn. But today isn’t about me.” She couldn’t hide the excited smile that crept over her face. “Sit down and close your eyes.”

He was wary of the request but knew better than to question her. She was the safest and most stable person he had ever come across in his life, and if she asked him to jump it was his job to ask how high. He heard the bag she had brought being scooted across the floor, things being pulled out of it and set onto the table. It was as if he were Eve in the garden and the awful temptation of the snake was to peek early. Surely...just a quick look wouldn’t hurt…?

“Eyes closed!” Tiff snapped, but there was no heat behind her words. More in the way one would corral a rowdy child than to scold someone in earnest. The snapping of elastic was heard, and something was wrapped around Habit’s chin, nestling itself into his hair. “Go ahead.”

He cracked one eye open, and his heart stopped.  _ She remembered. _

Tiff was smiling, wider than he’d ever seen her smile before. She seemed so  _ genuinely excited _ to be doing this. And she WAS! The pair of them were dressed up in party hats, two cupcakes sitting on the table on little plates. “Happy birthday, Boris.”

He pressed a hand over his mouth as he choked back tears for the second time in a matter of minutes. She continued speaking, faltering at his reaction and compensating with extra cheeriness and enthusiasm. “I didn’t know what kind of cake you’d like so I got a chocolate and vanilla and thought I’d let you pick which sounded best. I also didn’t know how old you were turning, so I’ve only got the one candle, but we can relight it a few times if you want?” She tugged at the string of her party hat a bit, readjusting it ever so slightly as she watched him.

He buried his face in his hands and sobbed yet again, and the pit in her stomach grew as she watched. This had been a bad idea, hadn’t it? “I can, uh, eat them both if you don’t want them? I probably should have checked if you even liked cake firs--” She was literally swept off her feet as he engulfed her in a hug, laughing as tears still rolled down his face.

“Thank you! He laughed and twisted side to side a bit, feeling her dangle in his arms like a slinky. “Thank you, Tiffany!” He didn’t dare let her go, he just stood there laughing and crying and carrying on for another few minutes before gingerly depositing her back onto the flooring. “You--” he hiccuped, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his hand, “You really went to all this trouble for me? After everything I’ve done?”

Tiff’s expression softened as she seated herself at the table. “What are friends for?”

At that, his heart seemed fit to burst, and he leaned forward until their faces were almost touching. “Do you mean it?” Despite how childish it was he offered her a pinky, looking expectantly at her. If she meant it she surely wouldn’t mind.

And she didn’t mind, not at all. “This would be a lot of trouble just to trick you.” She wrapped her pinky around his, slipping off her glasses to look him directly in the eye. “Boris,” she started, squeezing his hand a bit tighter, “I promise you that you and I are friends, and that I care for you. I’m not in the business of lying, and I make it a point to always be as truthful as possible. But...I know you’re nervous, and I can’t blame you. So if you need reassurance I’ll do my best to always provide it.”

He nodded a bit, releasing her hand and leaning back in his chair. “What kind of cupcakes do you like?” he poked at the colourful wrappers on each, inspecting them with curiosity. “They look…” He pursed his lips slightly, trying to think of the word. “...good.” He spoke slowly, still not satisfied with his word choice but unable to come up with the right term. It had been a while since he’d needed to-- “YUMMY! THEY LOOK YUMMY!” He seemed quite impressed with himself, straightening his collar with a smug expression as Tiff laughed beside him.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they each ate their cupcake, appreciating the sight of snow fluttering down against the window, broken only only by Tiff setting a small bottle of champagne on the table between them. “To a new year, a new us, and a deeper friendship. May 1995 bring us better luck than ‘94.”

“ Na Zdorovie .” He offered, gently tapping his glass against hers.

“Nostrovia.” She echoed.


End file.
